


Greenwood's Calling

by Ealirel_Yllaven (Ealirel)



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Aragorn is the only one who sees, Elf Culture & Customs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, I mean extremely hard, Male Friendship, Moria | Khazad-dûm, Young Legolas Greenleaf, can be read as a romance if you squint really hard, everyone else is sleeping, except maybe Gandalf, on the way to Moria
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:07:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25972624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ealirel/pseuds/Ealirel_Yllaven
Summary: Something troubles Legolas, Aragorn can see.
Relationships: Aragorn | Estel & Legolas Greenleaf, Legolas - Relationship, Legolas Greenleaf & Thranduil, Thranduil/Thranduil's Wife
Kudos: 98





	Greenwood's Calling

Something was bothering Legolas, Aragorn could tell. If not by the pacing itself, but the shadow passing over his face from time to time as the elf walked past him, blocking the moonlight before making it flash, disturbing the ranger’s sleep.

It was not uncommon for the elf to be the one to keep watch during the night as the others slept, for Legolas could rest even as he walked, and the others had no such liberties. They needed to sleep.

The night air was cool, but Aragorn had bigger things to worry about – Legolas had objected at first when he learnt they’d need to pass through Moria and the ranger could understand why. Moria was a city of dwarves and though Legolas was a great fighter, the elf avoided confrontation like the flames of a dragon.

Aragorn closed his eyes one more as Legolas turned in his direction to walk back the way he came from, not paying attention to the fellowship, but only looking out for danger. Aragorn doubted the elf would notice anything unless it was a large group of orcs. That would wake the others too. The ranger could hear Legolas hesitate, stopping in front of his lying form, blocking the moonlight once more.

Perhaps he noticed the disturbance he was causing, Aragorn mused.

But Legolas moved on before long, stepping over a sleeping hobbit and venturing just a little further than before. When the elf walked back past Aragorn again, the ranger reached out silently and grabbed a think ankle, making the elf gasp and fall silently to the ground.

Pale blue eyes glared right at him, burning a hole through his skull if it could. Aragorn was not smirking, he had intended to surprise Legolas, but the elf’s fall proved to him that something was wrong.

“What is the matter, my friend?” Aragorn whispered in elvish.

Legolas crossed his legs as he sat now, facing the ranger. “The nights are growing colder.”

“That is not it,” Aragorn replied. “Something is bothering you and it is not the cold.”

“You are right, it is not,” Legolas mumbled and turned his face towards the sky. “But it is not of importance right now.”

“You are not focusing.” Aragorn adjusted his form so that he was leaning on his elbows, lifting his head from the ground. “If someone were to attack us, would you have noticed?”

Legolas hesitated. “I reckon I would have.”

“But would it have been in time? Tell me what causes you to be so restless, my friend,” Aragorn said softly.

Legolas watched his companion’s face, noting the smear of dirt on the left cheek and the new stain on the dark clothing the ranger wore. After minutes of silence, the elf finally lowered his eyes to the ground and sighed. His thin fingers fiddled with wilted grass.  
“My mind shows me pictures of my home, and I dare say I have come to miss it.”

“You are homesick.”

“I long to see my mother,” Legolas admitted, “though my father is also on my mind. I have not been so far from home before, certainly not for so long. We are still far from where we are meant to be. Something fills me with dread, though I cannot describe it.”

Aragorn’s nod showed the Greenwood elf that the man understood, perhaps felt the same way too from time to time.

“I miss my time in Rivendell too, friend. As do I miss the rangers.” A shadow passed over Aragorn’s face, dark clouds forming to hide the moon.

Legolas frowned. “Rain is coming. I can smell it in the air. Such darkness is not much different from the one in the forests of Mirkwood. But it is not spiders that dwell here. The trees whisper.”

Thunder rumbled along the starry sky – Gimli startled awake for a second, stuttering roughly about elves needing to be quiet with a point of his finger in Legolas’ general direction. The elf-prince’s lips tightened slightly. Aragorn noted the leaf stuck in his hair near the top of his head but did not make a move to remove it. Instead, he sat up fully and placed a warm hand on the elf’s shoulder in silent comfort.

It was not the rain that brought darkness but the future.

“Is there nothing more on your mind?” Aragorn asked gently.

Legolas’ eyes held deep sorrow, the soft skin underneath forming bags of worry. “There is everything and nothing more, my friend. It is useless to dwell on things that cannot yet come to be.”

“You sound much older now,” the ranger muttered. “You are not your cheerful self.”

“Nay, I am not.” Legolas averted his gaze, crossing his arms.

Aragorn had never seen him do so for the elf was hardly self-conscious – and this gesture was undoubtedly a sign, a weaker one than the elf’s surprised fall, but a sign none the less that something was beginning to go wrong. Had something happened while he was not looking? Or perhaps this sorrow came from a time when Aragorn himself had yet to be born.

“Then let us continue our talk, you can confide in me. I will keep quiet.”

“Do not tell the dwarf,” Legolas smiled, eyes wrinkling near the edges.

Aragorn nodded seriously. “Not a word.”

Legolas was truly beautiful in Aragorn’s eyes – perhaps even more so than Arwen herself. The silver necklace shone in the darkness around them and Legolas’ fair hand came to rest upon it. Whoever the prince married, thought Aragorn fondly, would become the happiest maiden in the world. Perhaps, if Arwen did not exist and the prince was instead a princess, Aragorn could have fallen for such a gentle, happy soul – Legolas was like a young tree, and nothing was feminine about him. He wrestled with the hobbits, trying to teach them how to fight, he fought so bravely, it put the best warriors to shame. He himself was a warrior after all, a most skilled archer.   
Aragorn understood why Thranduil had sent his youngest son in the name of the elves.

“I miss my brothers too, though they still did not grow out of babying me.” Legolas was no longer seeing, only blankly staring ahead. “As I am sure you already know, I am the youngest – But I had reached my maturity long ago. They jest me for it is long over-due I find a lover. I know no maiden who shares my need for adventure I am afraid.”

Aragorn knew he should not, but a laugh was threatening to burst out. He was thinking just the same. “You need not look too hard, my friend. All the time in the world is yours.”

Legolas sighed, his spirit close to breaking. Blue eyes shone slightly, wet like the air around them. Aragorn noted with deep regret that he had failed to console the prince.

“My time may be more than that of men, but I fear it still is not enough – But this is not what upsets me,” Legolas admitted reluctantly, the chosen subject beginning to cause discomfort to stir awake in his soul. “I wish for my family’s embrace. Elves care deeply for their children; this I am sure you know. But we care just as much about our parents. They are the ones who gave us life.”

Lightning illuminated the sad face; Aragorn stood, extending his hand for the elf to take, which the prince did. The ranger helped Legolas to his feet.   
“You will see them again.” His words were but a whisper, quieter than the ones before. “Worry not.”

The smell of rain filled the air, cooling it further and sending shivers up Aragorn’s spine. As his last resort, he gathered the thin elf in his arms and held him close as he was held when he was a child. Legolas relaxed his tense form, closing his eyes and returning the embrace just as another loud set of thunder shook the night and Gimli’s angered, half-asleep mumbles started up once more.

“Thank you, my friend,” Legolas mouthed.


End file.
